Non Sequitur
by Aqua059
Summary: Out of everything in her life, only Mystil defied the great patterns that ruled her life. And so Kalia clung to him, dependent upon a non sequitur... gameverse, prequel to The Sixth Warrior, can be read as an independent story
1. Pattern Broken

**Because I'm bored...another spinoff. This one is for T6W, and it's mostly just practice for the 'new' Kalia. So, uh, enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but these AWESOMELY EPICAL PLUSHIES THAT I GOT AT THE ANIMEUSA CON!! -waves Giratina and Shaymin dolls in the air-**

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From the very beginning, Mystil had been an enigma. It was a strange fortune that led Kalia to venture into Eterna Forest as the sun set, rather than during the day, and encounter a small, timid Misdreavus huddled in the shadows. The tiny ghost shivered as it met the girl's curious gaze, and jumped when she reached out to pat its silken hair. At that point, Cheryl had called nervously for Kalia to please hurry, that the forest was scary at night, and the timid ghost was left alone.

But the pull of curiosity proved stronger than the Misdreavus' fear, and he trailed the two humans silently, watching their scuffles with wild Pokemon with a wide-eyed fascination, and finally he found the courage to throw himself in front of the blue-haired girl and demand a battle. One well-aimed Razor Leaf later, the ghost found himself tucked into a Heal Ball.

Lewis had scratched his head in confusion as his friend showed off her new capture. "That's a weird choice," he remarked, exchanging glances with Monferno. A shot of Astonish was enough to make him shut up about the topic for weeks; and it was there, in the now-twitching blond's presence, that Kalia dubbed the timid spirit Mystil.

The first time Kalia truly took note of his peculiarity was several weeks later, in the battle with Crasher Wake. The rest had fallen; Staravia, Gastrodon, and Machoke at the end of Gyarados' powerful attacks, Grotle and Luxio from Floatzel's vicious assault.

Somewhere, somewhen, a different Kalia brought out her final Pokemon; a Ponyta. The battle was lost, and during her training for the rematch, she encountered a Galactic grunt who was delivering something to his superiors. He was defeated, and the bomb never arrived at Lake Valor.

Floatzel fell to Psybeam, and Kalia was gone from Pastoria before the grunt passed through town.

That was only one of the many instances that caught Kalia's attention, as time and time again, Mystil disrupted what would have been the ideal story. The patterns amused her, then they intrigued her; it was only after Uxie was taken by Cyrus that they began to alarm her.

What made him so different? Any good Trainer could tell you that having a balanced team was one of the many secrets to success in the League. And the consensus was thus; Fire, Grass, and Water were the fundamentals. It was the reason that Professor Rowan studied the Pokemon he did, and Kalia saw the pattern even in Lewis' team (and that boy was the very _last_ person she would ever suspect of following the typical order.)

She felt confined, claustrophobic in a way that had nothing to do with physical discomfort. Once she even tried to flee her so-called "duty", starting down the road to Sunyshore for her final badge when she should have been making her way towards Veilstone City to free the spirit gods from Team Galactic. Her heart nearly stopped when a man blocked her path, telling her that a blackout had made the port city dangerous. After battling Saturn, she realized - in the vein of the typical story - that the Red Chain had been completed _just as she had arrived. _

That was when her Pokemon first noticed the change in her. Something off in the way she talked, an odd distance in her eyes, a desperation to her actions when she thought nobody was watching. To everyone else, that was the time when she abandoned fear for a taciturn heart; but those who were closest, her loyal companions, saw how the fear was commanding her, warping her into something unrecognizable.

Even among those six, only Mystil knew how far the terror struck. He had just fought off an Abomasnow, but the blizzard thrown up by the battle swept down the side of Mount Coronet like an avalanche. Clutching the Misdreavus to her chest, Kalia stumbled into a cavern, sinking against a wall and shivering.

"We shouldn't be able to survive this," she whispered, eyes wide and blank. "No human...no Trainer..."

Mystil whimpered softly and rubbed his head against her chin in a comforting gesture.

Her frenetic breathing slowed, but the waves of fear rolling from her were easily detected by her ghostly companion.

"It's all a game. All some kind of game," she continued, a hint of the fear escaping into her voice. "I can't get out, I can't live, I don't want to be some kind of chosen one, I just want to be able to choose -"

Kalia choked on the end of that word and suddenly stared down at Mystil, tears welling in her eyes against her will. Their gazes remained locked, hers in some kind of horrible realization, his in a sorrowful confusion.

"It's not everyone, though," she whispered, but Mystil had a suspicion that she was not speaking to him. But to whom? Who would be listening to one girl's pain?

And then Kalia did something that scared Mystil, shocked him down to his ethereal core.

She laughed.

It was a mirthful giggle at first, but it stretched out into a laugh that held no amusement; only fear and envy and hate and wry despair. Tears rolled from her slate-grey eyes as she laughed, and Mystil, in his own fear, could not move from beneath her blank, blank stare.

"You don't know!" she laugh-cried, shaking her head. "You're _free!_"

Mystil could only watch in horrified fascination as the smile became pained, only shake his head in protest when the words became accusing.

"When you come into things - they _change!_ You think I haven't _noticed? _You think I never _want _your freedom-!"

She stood up suddenly, and Mystil tumbled through the air before righting himself, tears threatening to creep from his own eyes as he saw his Trainer lean against the wall and glare down at him with an envy bordering on hatred. She shook with restrained sobs, her hands curling into fists as she shivered with her own emotion and the freezing cold of the crevice.

Mystil floated slowly, hesitantly, towards his Trainer, reaching out tentatively with an edge of his rippling, robe-like body, scared and sorrowful and loving all at the same time. He drifted closer and closer, but still she did not respond.

It was moments before he would have lightly touched her shoulder when she lashed out with a hand, screaming out a wordless cry of hate.

Mystil crashed to the ground, shocked by what had just occured and dazed from his impact with the stone. All was silent for what seemed like hours to the ghost.

And then suddenly he was in Kalia's arms again, and she was sobbing frantically, and the twisting, painful aura of hate was turned in upon itself; the girl hated _herself_ for what she had just done, how she had succumbed to the burning, burning envy inside of her. Mystil could never hate his Trainer, she had been too good to him. But the language he spoke was not one that Kalia could hear, so all he could do was let her cry, remaining in her grip, letting her beg forgiveness and giving it to her readily.

Kalia's only words as she continued up the mountain were sullen commands to her Pokemon as they mowed down each Galactic Grunt's arsenal. Her face as she entered Spear Pillar was emotionless, the perfect mask to hide from her friends and enemies.

Lewis fought against Mars and Jupiter alongside her, and she nearly broke into tears when he proclaimed he was behind her all the way.

Palkia screamed in agony, twisting beneath the Red Chain's pulsing blood-colored grip, and its shrieks ripped at the essence of all that was around it. Stone columns warped and tore like paper, some melting like wax as they crashed to the ground. Kalia huddled against the mosaic floor, pulling a Pokeball from her belt with shaking hands and flipping it open. Out came Mystil, his eyes wide with fear, whimpering as a roar poured forth from the space god's jaws, staring in revulsion at the madly grinning Cyrus and the end of the Red Chain he held.

"Forgive me."

Kalia's despairing whisper was barely audible, but Mystil heard it. With a chirp, he rubbed his cheek against his Trainer's, telling her through actions that he forgave her, completely and utterly.

The tears fell again, silently, as Kalia pulled a violet crystal from her bag, holding it to her heart. The shadows within it flickered gently, and the girl's whispers were incomprehensible, even to Mystil. With a shaking hand, she pressed it against Mystil's forehead, and her last words to the Misdreavus accompanied him into the the stone's beautiful darkness.

"Thank you."

It was a Mismagius that watched three spirits surround Palkia.

It was a Mismagius that watched the Red Chain shatter.

It was a Mismagius that watched Mesprit appear before Kalia.

It was a Mismagius that watched his Trainer reach out and touch the Pokemon's tail.

It was a Mismagius whose heart seemed to freeze when the girl's eyes turned blank.

Emotionless.

Dead.

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...so this turned out not to be a oneshot. Huh. Well, I guess this is the prequel to T6W, then. Expect chapters when I stop being lazy. -yawn-

**Reviews pweez.**


	2. Not You

**-pokes- Short, but it gets the point across. And I used a line I've been waiting to use for ages. And this prequel-thing is now officially over.**

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"_You're not meant to win here, Cyrus. You're the villain of this story."_

What had happened?

"_It's very simple…"_

No it wasn't. It was far, far more convoluted than this not-Kalia could ever know.

"_You're crying, Palkia. Gods don't cry…"_

But what if they did? Tears were far preferable to this glassy stare that spoke of no heart.

"_Checkmate."_

But it was an empty win, for the queen had been lost.

"You seem troubled."

He wanted to scream, to cry that the loss of his beloved Trainer had shocked and terrified and _troubled_ him, but he could not. She would hear it with the ears that had heard the tortured roars of a god and respond with the same dead voice she had used then. So he turned slowly, wincing when his ghostly eyes of crimson and saffron met her cold, emotionless eyes of grey.

"What bothers you?"

_It's not your voice._

Mystil didn't know how to tell this not-Kalia the truth. It would be baring his soul to a stranger.

_It's not you._

_You didn't catch me in the forest._

_You didn't train me for the battle with Fantina._

_You didn't share a moment of hushed laughter with me after meeting the Footprint Man._

His eyes flicked to the pendant around not-Kalia's neck; a pearl luminous even in the shadows of night, two pewter wings sprouting from behind.

The wings of a god. For the sake of the god, three spirits were stolen; for the sake of the spirits, a mission was given; for the sake of the mission, a soul was lost.

For the sake of the god, one priceless soul was lost.

"You're an enigma, you know."

The soft murmur snapped Mystil from his reverie.

"After all this time, if it was not for you…I would be a puppet through and through. As soulless as I seem to be now. But this way…is far, far better."

The thundering question from Mystil burst from him in a great wave of anguished thought.

The not-Kalia blinked and turned her head to gaze at him with those empty, empty eyes.

"Why?"

The ghost nodded weakly.

His not-Trainer's lips curved into a faint, blank smile. "Because I can win the game my way now."

There was a long silence. With a shuddering intake of breath, Mystil reached towards Kalia with the tips of his cloak-body and wrapped them around her torso in a tentative hug. The girl made no movement to return it, but instead reached one hand up to the tips of his hatlike head and stroked them distractedly.

"Little non sequitur…" she whispered softly, vaguely.

And the night fell cold and silent around them.


End file.
